


Night Penance

by pairatime



Series: Ian's Descent [1]
Category: Tower Prep
Genre: Dom/sub, M/M, Scars
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-09
Updated: 2013-07-09
Packaged: 2017-12-18 06:25:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 872
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/876645
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pairatime/pseuds/pairatime
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A night in Coach’s new life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Night Penance

**Author's Note:**

> lj's tower_prep's Ficfest

“You called Sir?”

Ian continued watching the moon out the window as it beam its’ light into the training room, empty save for himself and man that now stood in the center of the room. After several minutes ticked by Ian turned and looked at the man that had joined him, at his orders.

The years hadn’t been easy for Coach, his defection from the Gnomes and the old Head Master made him a sought after target and few on Ian’s own side trusted him. It was stubborn pride kept Coach from changing the way he dresses and showed off his body even after the scars had been added to his arms, his back, even his chest. The fact that not all of those had been added by Head Master’s side was something only the two of them knew.

“Take the bo.”

The words broke the silence that had filled the large room and it remained broken as Coach took one of the practice staff from alone the wall before returning to the center of the room just as Ian had taken one for himself. Coach had just turned to his spot when he heard the next comment, “fight.”

With no other warning or words the fight was on. Ian lashed first the moment he said the word and Coach was only just able to make a token block, just enough to slow the bo down before Ian landed it’s tip on his left shoulder, right over the one of the Gnome given scars.

Coach was instantly on the defensive, focusing on regaining his breath and looking for an opening. An opening his training of Ian meant he didn’t always find quickly, but one he always found because Ian always took an opening that let him strike one of the scars, his favorite was the one that adorned his chest. A fact that Coach used.

But even with those opening and the hits he was able to land, he was losing like always, he was getting old, slowing down, wasn’t able to train as much as he would like, his past wounds handicapped him. All problems that didn’t bother Ian, a man in his prime, who trained often, and who had few physical wounds.

No matter how many strikes Coach landed Ian managed to land more, so each time they did this he always ended up on the floor with Ian’s weapon pressing into his chest, the scar, with him biting back a growl.

“You lose,” Ian said with a sneer as he tossed his bo across the room to where he’s kicked Coach’s and started pacing around Coach in a circle.

“Yes Sir,” Coach said as he tried to regain his breath and push away the lancing pain from his chest, the deep scar was never given the time it needed to fully heal, to stop hurting. But he knew he have much time, Ian expected his orders obeyed and Coach knew what losing their dual meant.

Coach rolled onto his stomach before pushing himself up to a kneeling positions and pulled off his swear soaked shirt and tossed it aside before he rose just enough to pull off his shorts before kneeling back down, he was now Ian’s to use, even more then normal, sometimes it was more pain, sometimes pleasure but always Ian’s choice never his.

“Good boy,” Ian said before he reached down and ran a hand over one of the light scars over Coach’s back. 

Coach repressed the shiver at the touch, the need that it always inflamed within him. He would lose, he always did but it was all the control he had. He wasn’t able to fight back the groan when he felt Ian’s lips on his neck or the hiss of pain when fingers twisted his nipples.

The next hour was a haze of pleasure and pain for him as Ian enjoyed himself, that he may enjoy what was being done at any given moment was coincident and little more just has it had been since Ian took over. But as always happens it ended, Ian was sated and satisfied and thus done with Coach for the night. He would leave expecting that Coach would clean up the mess.

He wondered if Ian knew this was a reward of sorts. His guard wouldn’t enter the room, wouldn’t take him back to his room until he walked out those doors. Coach never took to long, to long would risk having this time taken away, this rare time of freedom. Time he was able to do more then train advance students or stay in his room. 

Coach made his way over to the window and just smiled at the moon, he hadn’t seen the moon or stars since the last time and he wouldn’t see it again until next time and Ian was never perfectible, it could be months or tomorrow. Then he looked down, he saw Ian standing next to a man he knew had to be Connor. Both standing before the Grave, the only one Ian allows on campus. The Grave of a Ian’s best friend. He watched them for a few minutes absently tracing the CT Ian carved into his chest.

The end


End file.
